1 

Rr 

M 

s 

^ 

mmm^ 


ma 


CM^,^ 


^' 

ii 

III 

1 

II 

■V  ■•  ]  ] )  ( 

II 

'■ ' 

i 

!lVl 

1 

P378  F8 
Thomas 


BR  1715 
Shepherd 

-1898. 
Funeral  service 
interment  oi 


1850 
James 


181! 


at  the 
George,  son 


O'i 


GEORGE  TATTEHSON,  JR. 


'^,      /M    ^^y^-^iy^c^Oi^U^ 


FUNERAL     SERVICE 


AT    THE     IXTERMKNT     OF 


GEORGE, 

SON    OF 


GEORGE  AND  PRUDENCE  A.  PATTERSON, 

OF 

SPRINGFIELD,  C/VRROLL  CO.,  MD. 
WHO      DIED     DECEMBER    21,   184  9, 


THOMAS   JAMES    SHEPHERD. 


BALTIMORE: 
PRINTED     BY     JOHN     D.    TOY. 

Tssa 


TO 


GEORGE  PITTERSON,  ESQ.  AND  MRS.  PATTERSON, 

OF    SPRINGFIELD. 

My  Dear  Friends: 

In  complying  with  your  request 
to  furnish  for  the  press  a  copy  of  the 
Funeral  Service  at  the  interment  of  your 
son,  it  is  proper  for  me  to  say,  that  the 
Sermon,  which  formed  part  of  that  Service, 
is  in  the  following  pages  but  imperfectly, 
althouoh  substantially,  reproduced.     I  have 


VI 


fuiiiid  it  impossible,  in  niinifcrous  passages, 
to  recall  the  precise  language  employed, 
having  made  no  written  preparation,  and 
being  prompted  in  speaking  by  the  mourn- 
ful and  affecting  occasion  only;  but  if,  in 
giving  permanent  form  to  the  sentiments 
at  that  time  expressed,  I  have  succeeded 
in  no  more  than  in  sketching,  truthfully, 
the  character  of  your  noble  and  now 
sainted  boy,  I  shall  hope  both  to  gain  your 
approval,  and  to  render  a  not  unfitting 
tribute  to  that  exceedino;  crvace  of  God  in 
Christ,  which  briiigeth  salvation. 


VII 

With  earnest  prayer  to  the  Father  of 
Mercies,  that  He  would  bring  you  both  to 
a  blessed  re-union  with  the  early  lost,  and 
the  early  saved, 

I  am,  most  truly,  yours, 

T.    J.    SHEPHERD. 

LoNGWOOD,  26///  Jan.  I'r^oO. 


FUNERAL    SERAaCE. 


HYMN 


When  blooming  youth  is  snatched  away 

By  Death's  resistless  hand, 
Our  hearts  the  mournful  tribute  pay 

That  pity  must  demand. 

While  pity  prompts  the  rising  sigh, 

Oh !  may  this  truth,  impressed 

With  awful  power, — ^^I  too  must  die!" 

Sink  deep  in  every  breast. 
3 


14  HYMN. 

Let  this  vain  world  engage  no  more; 

Behold  the  gaping  tomb  ! 
It  bids  us  seize  the  present  hour, — 

To-morrow  Death  may  come. 

Oh !  let  us  fly — to  Jesus  fly — 
Whose  powerful  arm  can  save; 

Then  shall  our  hopes  ascend  on  high, 
And  triumph  o'er  the  grave. 

Great  God!  thy  sovereign  grace  impart. 
With  cleansing,  healing  power ; 

This  only  can  prepare  the  lieart. 
For  Death's  surprising  hour. 


SELECTION   OF   SCRIPTURES 


Man  that  is  born  of  a  woman  is  of  few 
days,  and  full  of  trouble.  He  cometh  forth 
like  a  flower,  and  is  cut  down:  he  fleeth 
also  as  a  shadow,  and  continueth  not.* 
All  flesh  is  grass,  and  all  the  goodliness 
thereof  is  as  the  flower  of  the  field. f  They 
are  like  grass  which  groweth  up.  In  the 
morning  it  flourisheth,  and  groweth  up ;  in 
the  evening  ;t  is  cut  down,  and  withereth.J 

*  Job,  xiv :  J ,  2.  f  Isaiah,  xl :  6.  t  ^^-  xc :  5,  6. 


16  SCRIPTURES. 

Lord,  make  me  to  know  mine  end,  and 
the  measure  of  my  days,  what  it  is;  that 
I  may  know  how  frail  I  am.  Behold,  thou 
hast  made  my  days  as  an  handbreadth ;  and 
mine  age  is  as  nothing  before  thee :  verily 
every  man  at  his  best  state  is  altogether 
vanity.* 

We  broug-ht  nothinof  into  this  world, 
and  it  is  certain  we  can  carry  nothing 
out.f  Naked  came  I  out  of  my  mother's 
womb,  and  naked  shall  I  return  thither: 
the  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath 
taken  away ;  blessed  be  the  name  of  the 
Lord4 

♦Ps.  xxxix:  4,  6.  i  1  Tim.  vi:  7.  tJob,  i:21. 


SCRIPTURES.  17 

David  therefore  besought  God  for  the 
child;  and  David  fasted,  and  went  in,  and 
lay  all  night  upon  the  earth.  And  the 
elders  of  his  house  arose,  and  went  to  him, 
to  raise  him  up  from  the  earth :  but  he 
would  not,  neither  did  he  eat  bread  with 
them.  And  it  came  to  pass  on  the  seventh 
day,  that  the  child  died.  And  the  servants 
of  David  feared  to  tell  him  that  the  child 
was  dead:  for  they  said.  Behold,  while  the 
child  was  yet  alive,  we  spake  unto  him, 
and  he  would  not  hearken  unto  our  voice: 
how  will  he  then  vex  himself,  if  we  tell 
him  that  the  child  is  dead  ?* 

*2  SamiK^l.  xii:  16— IS. 


18  SCRIPTURES. 

But  vrlien  David  saw  that  his  servants 
whispered,  David  perceived  that  the  child 
was  dead:  therefore  David  said  unto  his 
servants,  Is  the  child  dead?  And  they 
said.  He  is  dead.  Then  David  arose  from 
the  earth,  and  washed,  and  anointed  him- 
self, and  changed  his  apparel,  and  came 
into  the  house  of  the  Lord,  and  wor- 
shipped:  then  he  came  to  his  own  house; 
and  when  he  required,  they  set  bread  be- 
fore him,  and  he  did  eat.*  Then  said  his 
servants  unto  him.  What  thing  is  this  that 
thou  hast  done?  thou  didst  fast  and  weep 
for  the  child,  while  it  was  alive;  but  when 

♦2  Samuel,  xii:  19,20. 


SCRIPTURES.  19 

the  child  was  dead,  thou  didst  rise  and  eat 
bread.  And  he  said,  While  the  child  was 
yet  alive,  I  fasted,  and  wept:  for  I  said. 
Who  can  tell  whether  God  will  be  gracious 
to  me,  that  the  child  may  live  ?  But  now 
he  is  dead,  wherefore  should  I  fast.''  Can 
I  bring  him  back  again.''  I  shall  go  to 
him,  but  he  shall  not  return  to  me.* 

When  the  child  w^as  grown,  it  fell  on  a 
day,  that  he  went  out  to  his  father  to  the 
reapers.  And  he  said  unto  his  father.  My 
head,  my  head.  And  he  said  to  a  lad, 
Carry  him  to  his  mother.  And  when  he 
had  taken  him,   and  brought  him   to    his 

*  2  Samuel,  xii:  21—23. 


20  SCRIPTURES. 

mother,  he  sat  on  her  knees  till  noon,  and 
then  died.  And  she  went  up,  and  laid 
him  on  the  bed  of  the  man  of  God,  and  shut 
the  door  upon  him,  and  went  out.  And  she 
called  unto  her  husband,  and  said.  Send 
me,  I  pray  thee,  one  of  the  young  men, 
and  one  of  the  asses,  that  I  may  run  to 
the  man  of  God,  and  come  again.*  So 
she  went  and  came  unto  the  man  of  God 
to  Mount  Carmel.  And  it  came  to  pass, 
when  the  man  of  God  saw  her  afar  off, 
that  he  said  to  Gehazi  his  servant.  Behold, 
yonder  is  that  Shunammite:  run  now,  I 
pray  thee,  to  meet  her,  and  say  unto  her, 

*2  King^s,  iv:  IS— ii. 


SCRIPTURES.  21 

Is  it  well  with  thee?  Is  it  well  with  thy 
husband?  Is  it  well  wdth  the  child?  And 
she  answered,     It  is  well.* 

Samuel  ministered  before  the  Lord, 
being  a  child,  girded  with  a  linen  ephod. 
Moreover  his  mother  made  him  a  little 
coat,  and  brought  it  to  him  from  year  to 
year,  when  she  came  up  with  her  husband, 
to  offer  the  yearly  sacrifice.  And  the  child 
Samuel  grew  on,  and  was  in  favor  both 
with  the  Lord,  and  also  with  men.f  And 
the  child  Samuel  ministered  unto  the  Lord 
before  EU.  And  the  word  of  the  Lord 
was  precious  in  those  days;  there  was  no 

*  2  Kin pTf,  iv:  25,  26.  f  1  Samuel,  ii:  18,  19,  26. 


22  SCRIPTURES. 

open  vision.  And  it  came  to  pass  at  that 
time,  when  Eli  was  laid  down  in  his  place, 
and  his  eyes  began  to  wax  dim,  that  he 
could  not  see;  and  ere  the  lamp  of  God 
went  out  in  the  temple  of  the  Lord,  w^here 
the  ark  of  God  was,  and  Samuel  was  laid 
down  to  sleep;  That  the  Lord  called  Sam- 
uel: and  he  answered,  Here  am  L  And 
he  ran  unto  Eli,  and  said.  Here  am  I;  for 
thou  calledst  me.  And  he  said,  1  called 
not;  lie  down  again.  And  he  went  and  lay 
down.*  And  the  Lord  called  yet  again, 
Samuel.  And  Samuel  arose  and  went  to 
Eli,  and  said.  Here  am  I;  for  thou  didst 

*  1  Samuel,  iii:  1—5. 


SCRIPTURES.  23. 

call  me.  And  he  answered,  I  called  not, 
my  son;  lie  down  again.  Now  Samuel 
did  not  yet  know  the  Lord,  neither  was  the 
word  of  the  Lord  yet  revealed  unto  him. 
And  the  Lord  called  Samuel  again  the  third 
time.  And  he  arose  and  went  to  Eli,  and 
said,  Here  am  I;  for  thou  didst  call  me.  And 
Eli  perceived  that  the  Lord  had  called  the 
child.  Therefore  Eli  said  unto  Samuel, 
Go,  lie  down:  and  it  shall  be,  if  he  call 
thee,  that  thou  shalt  say.  Speak,  Lord;  for 
thy  servant  heareth.  So  Samuel  went  and 
lay  down  in  his  place.*  And  the  Lord 
came,  and  stood  and  called   as    at   other 

*  1  Samuel,  iii:  6 — 9. 


24  SCRIPTURES. 

times,  Samuel,  Samuel.  Then  Samuel  an- 
swered, Speak;  for  lliy  servant  heare*th.* 
Reuben  returned  unto  the  pit;  and  be- 
hold, Joseph  was  not  in  the  pit :  and  he 
rent  his  clothes.  And  he  returned  unto 
his  brethren,  and  said.  The  child  is  not: 
and  I,  whither  shall  I  go  ?  And  they  took 
Joseph's  coat,  and  killed  a  kid  of  the 
goats,  and  dipped  the  coat  in  the  blood: 
and  they  sent  the  coat  of  many  colors,  and 
they  brought  it  to  their  father;  and  said, 
This  have  we  found:  know  now  whether 
it  be  thy  son's  coat  or  no.f  And  he  knew 
it,  and  said,  It  is  my  son's  coat;  an  evil 

*  1  Samuel,  iii:  10.  1 1-'^"<  •^i'^.  xxxvii:  -29— 32. 


SCRIPTURES.  25 

beast  hath  devoured  him :  Joseph  is  with- 
out doubt  rent  in  pieces.  And  Jacob  rent 
his  clothes,  and  put  sackcloth  upon  his 
loins,  and  mourned  for  his  son  many 
days.  And  all  his  sons,  and  all  his 
daughters,  rose  up  to  comfort  him;  but  he 
refused  to  be  comforted:  and  he  said, 
For  I  will  go  down  into  the  grave  unto 
my  son  mourning.  Thus  his  father  wept 
for  him.* 

Behold,  Cushi  came ;  and  Cushi  said. 
Tidings,  my  lord  the  king :  for  the  Lord 
hath  avenged  thee  this  day  of  all  them  that 
rose  up  against  thee.     And  the  king  said 

♦  Genesis,  xxxvii :   33—35. 


26  SCRIPTURES. 

unto  Cushi,  Is  the  young  man  Absalom 
safe  ?  And  Cushi  answered,  The  enemies 
of  my  lord  the  king,  and  all  that  rise 
against  thee  to  do  thee  hurt,  be  as  that 
young  man  is.  And  the  king  was  much 
moved,  and  went  up  to  the  chamber  over 
the  gate,  and  wept:  and  as  he  went,  thus 
he  said,  0  my  son  Absalom!  my  son,  my 
son  Absalom !  would  God  I  had  died  for 
thee,  O  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son!* 

A  voice  was  heard  in  Ramah,  lamenta- 
tion, and  bitter  weeping;  Rachel  weeping 
for  her  children,  refused  to  be  comforted 
for  her  children,  because  they  were  not.f 

*2  Samuel,  xviii:  31—33.  f  .Teromiah,  xxxi:  15. 


SCRIPTURES.  27 

I  would  not  have  you  to  be  i<^no- 
rant,  brethren,  concerning  them  which  are 
asleep,  that  ye  sorrow  not,  even  as  others 
which  have  no  hope.  For  if  we  believe 
that  Jesus  died  and  rose  again,  even  so 
them  also  which  sleep  in  Jesus  will  God 
bring  w^ith  him.  For  this  w^e  say  unto 
you  by  the  word  of  the  Lord,  that  we 
which  are  alive,  and  remain  unto  the  com- 
ing of  the  Lord,  shall  not  prevent  them 
which  are  asleep.*  For  the  Lord  himself 
shall  descend  from  heaven  with  a  shout, 
with  the  voice  of  the  Archangel,  and  with 
the  trump  of  God :  and  the  dead  in  Christ 

*1  Thess.  iv:  13—15. 


28  SCRIPTURES. 

shall  rise  first :  then  we  which  are  alive 
and  remain,  shall  be  caught  up  together 
with  them  in  the  clouds,  to  meet  the  Lord 
in  the  air :  and  so  shall  we  ever  be  with 
the  Lord.  Wherefore,  comfort  one  another 
with  these  words.* 

»  1  Thcss.  iv:  16—18. 


PRAYER 


Almighty  God,  Author  of  our  life  and 
of  our  death,  send  down  upon  us  Thy 
Holy  Sph'it,  that,  assembled  in  this  house 
of  mourning,  we  may  know  our  end,  and 
the  measure  of  our  days,  what  it  is.  Be- 
hold, Thou  hast  made  our  days  as  an  hand- 
breadth,  and  our  age  is  as  nothing  before 
Thee:  verily,  at  our  best  state,  we  are  alto- 
gether vanity.  It  is  Thou  who  turnest 
man  to  destruction,  and  sayest.  Return, 
ye   children   of   men.      It    is  Thou   w^ho 


30  PRAYER. 

earnest  them  away  as  with  a  flood,  who 
bringest  them  down  to  death  and  to  the 
house  appointed  for  all  living.  Do  Thou 
teach  us,  to-day,  how^  frail  we  are !  how 
slight  our  hold  upon  earthly  things !  how 
real  and  solemn  the  connexion  of  the  pres- 
ent life  of  sense  with  the  life  that  is  to 
come !  Fill  us  with  thorough  repentings 
on  account  of  our  sins ;  create  within  us 
the  gracious  sentiments  of  Faith  and  the 
holy  sympathies  of  Love ;  and,  by  grant- 
ing us  all  spiritual  fitness  for  the  heavenly 
state,  prepare  us  for  an  introduction  into 
Thy  presence  where  is  fulness  of  joy. 

And,  0  most  merciful  Father,  vouchsafe 
Thy  special  strength  and  grace  to  these 


PRAYER.  31 

afflicted  parents.  Thou  who  gave,  hast 
been  pleased  to  take  away,  their  only  son. 
As  Thou  alone  canst  know  the  bitterness  of 
this  affliction,  comfort  them  as  Thou  alone 
canst  comfort.  Enable  them  to  bow  in 
an  unmurmuring  submission  to  Thy  most 
blessed  and  most  righteous  will.  Uplift 
their  thoughts  and  their  affections  to  that 
Heaven  of  love  and  purity  in  which  Thou 
dwellest,  and  to  which,  we  are  persuaded, 
Thou  hast  taken  their  loved  one.  Draw 
them  by  the  cords  of  love  unto  Thyself; 
and,  when  Thou  callest  them  from  Earth, 
receive  them  into  Heaven,  that,  in  re-union 
and  everlasting  intercourse  with  their  dear 
boy,  they  may  sing  the  praise  of  Him  who 


32  PRAYER. 

died  for  them  that  they  should  live  together 
v;ith  Him :  in  whose  great  name  Ave  offer 
these  our  prayers,  and  to  whom,  with 
Thee,  0  Father  Almighty,  and  with  Thee, 
O  Spirit  of  grace,  be  glory  both  now  and 
forever.     Amen. 


HYMN 


So  fades  the  lovely,  blooming  flower,- 
Frail,  smiling  solace  of  an  hour ! 
So  soon  om*  transient  comforts  fly, 
And  pleasure  only  blooms  to  die. 

Is  there  no  kind, — no  lenient  art, 
To  heal  the  anscuish  of  the  heart  ? 
Spirit  of  grace  !  be  ever  nigh. 
Thy  comforts  are  not  made  to  die. 


34  HYMN. 

Bid  gentle  patience  smile  on  pain, 
Till  dying  hope  shall  live  again ; 

Hope  wipes  the  tear  from  sorrow's  eye, 
And  Faith  points  upward  to  the  sky. 


SERMON. 


Jos3PH  IS  NOT. — G-enesis  xlii:    36. 


I  CAN  imagine  no  affliction  more  crush- 
ing to  parental  hearts  than  that  of  the 
death  of  a  noble  boy.  It  interrupts  so 
many  plans ;  it  darkens  so  many  pros- 
pects ;  it  blights  so  many  hopes ;  it  flings 
such  heavy  gloom  upon  one's  home  and 
over  the  sky  of  one's  life ;  that  its  intensity 
of  sorrow  must  surely  be  extreme. 


36  SERMON. 

It  was  such  affliction  which  wrung  from 
Jacob  tlie  brief  but  pointed  exchimation  of 
the  text.  His  son  Joseph,  a  boy  of  extra- 
ordinary promise,  had  met,  as  was  sup- 
2)osed,  a  sudden  and  painful  death.  From 
the  hrst  wild  utterance  of  grief  to  that 
recorded  in  the  text,  long  years  had 
passed,  yet  were  the  father's  thoughts  still 
busied  with  his  loss.  At  every  turn  he  is 
reminded  of  it.  Among  all  the  objects 
which  address  his  sight,  the  form  of  Joseph 
is  not  seen.  Among  all  the  sounds  which 
strike  his  ear,  the  voice  of  Joseph  is  not 
heard.     Joseph  is  not. 

It  is  a  like  affliction  which,  to-day, 
makes  this  a  house  of  mourning.     An  only 


SERMON.  37 

son,  of  tender  age  but  possessed  of  sense 
and  sensibility  beyond  his  years,  the  pride 
of  his  father,  the  joy  of  his  mother,  the 
light  of  his  home,  the  Joseph  of  his  family, 
is  not.  Than  this  event,  there  surely  could 
be  none  more  unexpected  or  more  sad. 
Who  thought  of  it,  at  any  time,  as  likely 
to  occur  ?  Who  associated  ever,  with  the 
form  now  cold  and  still,  the  damp  and 
darkness  of  the  grave  ?  The  face  of  that 
noble  boy  was  always  so  radiant  of  health 
and  life ;  his  body  was  so  vigorous,  so 
robust ;  his  mind,  so  active,  so  intelligent ; 
and  withal,  his  prospective  wealth  and 
influence  in  the  world,  so  real,  and  so  com- 
manding; it  had  been  deemed  a  violence 
6 


38  SERMON. 

to  one's  most  sober  thouG^hts  to  think 
of  him  as  soon  to  die.  But  he  is  not. 
That  pulseless,  that  encoffined  clay  is  mel- 
ancholy proof  that  Death  heeds  not  the 
thoughts  of  mortals.  Suddenly,  unexpect- 
edly, before  indeed  we  had  conceived  of  it 
as  possible,  the  young,  the  loved,  is  not. 
His  place  at  home  and  in  the  house  of 
God,  is  vacant.  His  light  step  follows 
now  no  more  a  father  in  his  walks.  His 
merry  shout  thrills  not  again  a  mother's 
heart. 

How  real,  how  crushing  is  this  affliction, 
I  may  not  trust  myself  to  speak!  God 
alone,  who  fashioned  the  wondrous  human 
heart,  ran  rightly  utter  that  experience  of 


SERMON.  39 

suffering,  to  which  these  grief  bowed 
parents  have  been  brought.  Let  me  rather, 
on  this  occasion,  by  sketching  briefly  the 
character  of  him  whom  we  lament,  give 
to  these  stricken  hearts  some  comforting 
persuasion,  that  their  early  lost  one,  resem- 
bling the  lost  son  of  Jacob  in  the  prime 
respect  of  character,  resembles  him  not 
less  in  an  ensuing  and  truly  splendid 
destiny. 

It  can  surprise  no  one  who  knew  the 
noble  boy  of  whom  I  speak,  that  I,  who 
knew  him  well,  ascribe  to  him  a  character 
similar  in  kind  to  that  of  the  youthful  and 
pious  Joseph.  Although  no  more  than  five 
brief  summers  of  his  life   on  earth  were 


40  SERMON. 

passed,*  he  gave  no  doubtful  proof  of  an 
earnest,  loving,  and  devout  mind.  He  was 
in  truth  an  extraordinary  boy.  The  com- 
panion of  his  father  from  the  time  he  could 
speak  and  walk,  his  intelligence  was  so 
rare,  and  his  sentiments  upon  most  subjects 
so  well  defined,  that  the  indications  of 
character  w^hich  he  gave,  were  most  dis- 
tinct and  most  reliable. 

Of  these  indications  I  reckon,  among 
the  first,  a  remarkable  love  of  truth.  He 
was  never  known  to  utter  a  falsehood,  and 
the  utterance  of  it  by  others  was  held  by 
him  in  especial  detestation. 

*  At  liis  death  he  was  5  yrs.  3  nius.  12  d.-?.  old. 


SERMON.  41 

He  entertained,  too,  an  exceedingly  strong 
dislike  of  the  mean  and  of  the  loio.  His 
opposition  to  intemperance  in  eating  and 
in  drinking  was  peculiarly  strong.  To 
manifest  an  undue  fondness  for  the  gratifi- 
cations of  appetite,  was  the  sure  means  of 
forfeiting  his  esteem,  and,  in  his  last  sick- 
ness, he  resolutely  refused  a  preparation  of 
wine,  saying,  substantially,  I  am  not  a 
drunkard,  nor  do  I  wish  to  be.  Indeed, 
few  things,  in  one  so  young,  were  more 
surprising  than  his  mastery  over  appetite. 
No  persuasion  could  induce  him  to  partake 
of  food,  of  fruits,  or  of  delicacies,  which 
were  declared  by  his  father,  whose  word 
with  him  had  always  the  highest  sanction 


42  SERMON. 

of  authority,  to  be  unwholesome  and 
injurious. 

He  was  particularly  free  from  that  con- 
trolling selfishness  which  most  children  show. 
With  his  sister  and  relatives,  and  with  the 
servants  that  attended  him,  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  share  what  good  things  he  might 
chance  to  have,  with  a  readiness  and  gen- 
erosity that  evinced  a  noble  nature. 

Of  tender  sensibilities  he  might,  from  an 
excess  of  diffidence,  have  been  regarded 
by  strangers,  as  irresolute  and  timid.  But 
a  heart  of  truer  courage  never  beat  in  human 
breast.  Insensible  to  fear,  he  maintained 
what  he  esteemed  the  right,  with  a  deter- 
mined energy  of  will  and  manliness  of  act. 


SERMON.  43 

He  was  distinguished  by  strong  affec- 
tions. The  love  he  bore  his  parents,  and 
his  young  and  only  sister,  was  intense. 
He  sometimes  wept  in  bitterness,  from 
sudden  thought,  as  he  would  say  in  ex- 
planation, that  these  loved  ones  might  be 
called  to  die  before  him  and  so  to  leave 
him  all  alone  on  Earth.  The  singular 
regard  he  cherished  for  his  father  had  a 
beautiful  and  uniform  expression  in  count- 
less acts  of  respect  and  confidence.  The 
knowledge  of  his  father's  sentiments  on 
any  subject,  or  of  his  father's  wishes  in 
any  matter,  was  always  quite  enough  to 
fix  his  own  opinions,  or  to  decide  his  con- 
duct.     Nor  was   his  love  for  his  mother. 


44  SERMON. 

that  genuine  source  and  proof  of  true 
nobility  of  character,  less  deep  and  ear- 
nest. Among  the  last  acts  of  his  life, 
when  Death  had  evidently  touched  his 
sinking  frame,  he  threw  his  arms  about 
her  neck,  entreating  her  forgiveness  if, 
at  any  time,  by  any  means,  he  had  dis- 
tressed her. 

His  conscientiousness  was,  also,  most  de- 
cided. Inquisitive  to  ascertain  the  right, 
he  manifested  an  ingenuous  sorrow  when 
he  had  done  the  wrong.  An  unguarded 
word  or  some  hasty  impropriety  of  temper, 
has  brought  him  to  his  mother,  weeping, 
and  inquiring  anxiously  if  God  would  hear 
his  prnyer  for  pardon. 


SERMON.  45 

But  it  was  his  interest  in  divine  things 
which  gave  the  clearest  ilkistration  of  a 
rare  nobility  of  character.  The  beautiful 
narratives  of  Scripture  afforded  him  an 
unfailing-  entertainment.  He  never  tired 
of  hearing  his  mother  read  these  narra- 
tives, and  would  frequently  request  it,  with 
an  importunity  that  could  not  be  denied. 
With  the  history  of  Samuel,  the  pious  boy 
and  the  upright  man  and  judge,  he  was 
particularly  pleased,  and  so  frequently  re- 
ferred to  it,  in  terms  so  fitting,  as  to  jus- 
tify the  persuasion  that  the  great  truths 
of  religion  had  taken  an  effective  hold 
upon  his  mind.  The  being  and  the  char- 
acter of  God,  were  with  him  topics  of 
7 


46  SERMON. 

commanding  interest.  The  thought  of 
God  seemed  to  fix  itself  imperishably  in 
his  soul,  and  to  prompt  unceasing  inquiries 
respecting  the  objects  and  conditions  of 
the  divine  favor.  He  plainly  had  a  con- 
trolling sense  of  the  divine  presence  and 
a  strong  solicitude  to  gain  the  divine 
approval. 

Many  proofs  of  his  interest  in  divine 
things  are  remembered  now  that  he  is  not. 
It  is  with  tearful  joy  that  we  call  to  mind 
how  frequently  he  asked  what  was,  and 
what  was  not  sin;  how  habitually  he  en- 
deavored to  avoid  the  wrong;  how  thor- 
oughly anxieties  of  soul  possessed  him 
when   made  sensible  of   wronsf  which    he 


SERMON.  47 

had  done;  and  how  earnestly  he  sought, 
in  simple  prayers,  the  forgiveness  and  the 
favor  of  his  Heavenly  Father.  Nor  was 
it  a  slight  proof  of  his  interest  in  divine 
things  which  was  furnished  by  the  love  he 
cherished  for  the  house  of  God,  and  by 
the  deportment  he  maintained  during  the 
solemnities  of  worship.  He  loved  the 
place  of  prayer.  Entering  warmly  into 
the  feelings  and  plans  of  his  parents,  who 
were  solicitous  to  have  the  house,  in  which 
they  worshipped,  finished  and  furnished  in 
style  befitting  its  sacred  uses,  he  requested, 
some  few^  weeks  before  his  mortal  sickness, 
that  a  handsome  Bible  might  be  purchased 
for  it.     Death  came  before  his  request  was 


48  SERMON. 

complied  with  ;  but  the  Bible  will  be  pur- 
chased, and,  in  his  name,  presented  to  the 
Church,*  a  memorial  through  many  years 
to  come  of  the  love  he  had  for  the  sanc- 
tuary. His  place  in  God's  house,  if  I 
remember  rightly,  was  never  vacant,  and 
his  deportment  there,  truly  exemplary. 
He  appeared  to  realize,  more  thoroughly 
than  any  one  so  young  whom  I  have 
known,  the  sanctity  of  the  place,  and  the 
reverent  attention  which  became  its  hal- 
lowed services.  And,  to  this  habitual  and 
devout  attendance  upon  divine  worship,  I 
attribute  much  of  that  solemn  sense  of  an 

*  This  has  now  been  done. 


SERMON.  49 

unseen    world    of    spirit,    so    remarkably 
displayed  in  the  closing  scenes  of  life. 

From  the  first  of  his  last  sickness  he 
spoke  of  his  decease  as  of  something  cer- 
tain; and,  in  the  midst  of  endeavors  to 
comfort  his  parents  overwhelmed  by  the 
prospect  of  his  removal  from  them,  he  ad- 
dressed himself,  with  a  maturity  of  thought 
rarely  witnessed,  to  the  great  work  of 
preparation  for  eternity.  His  expressions 
of  personal  sinfulness,  of  the  holiness  of 
God,  of  the  love  of  Christ,  and  of  the 
purity  and  blessedness  of  Heaven,  w^ere 
uncommonly  just  and  scriptural.  He  was 
far  from  thinking  that  he  should  enter 
Heaven  w^ithout   a   fitness  for   it,  and   in- 


50  SERMON. 

striicted  in  tlie  nature  of  prayer,  he  seemed 
to  realize  most  fully  its  necessity  and 
worth.  Few  approached  him  without  an 
urgent  request  that  they  would  pray  for 
him  ;  and  to  his  absent  minister  he  sent, 
to  this  effect,  repeated  messages  which, 
alas!  were  not  received  until  his  earnest 
spirit  had  returned  to  God  who  gave  it.* 
Many  times  a  d;iy  he  would  recite,  with 
great  devotional  earnestness,  the  beautiful 


*  It  was  matter  of  profound  rcg-rct  that  absence 
from  home,  during-  the  brief  period  of  the  dear  boy's 
mortal  sickness,  prevented  my  ministrations  at  his  ])cd- 
side.  I  returned  only  to  hear  the  announcement  of  his 
dcatli  and  to  speak  in  his  funeral.  The  slight  allusions 
in  the  text  to  the  exercises  of  his  mind,  during"  his 
sickness,  are  g-rounded  upon  the  statements  of  his 
parents.  t.  j.  s. 


SERMON.  51 

prayer  of  our  Lord,  and  add  some  special, 
unprompted  petitions,  that  God  would 
show  him  mercy.  And,  not  unfrequently, 
when  lying  still  and  seemingly  unconscious 
of  what  around  him  was  passing,  his  lips 
would  move,  and  faintly  murmured  suppli- 
cations go  up  to  Him  who  hears  and  an- 
swers prayer.  In  the  utterance  of  prayer 
he  literally  died.  The  last  word  caught  by 
those  who  weeping  bent  over  him,  was 
the  sweet  word  Father ^  which,  repeated 
until  his  lips  grew  motionless  in  death, 
and,  from  his  manner,  evidently  addressed 
to  God,  is  remembered  with  a  touch- 
ing interest,  from  his  having  said  to 
his   father,   some   days  before,    "You  are 


52  SERMON. 

not  my   only    father:    I  lia\e   a   Fatliur   in 
Heaven."* 

Such  now  is  a  brief  sketch  of  the  char- 
acter of  our  lost  one.  How  admirable  it 
w^as,  and  how  closely  resembling,  in  all 
substantial  respects,  that  of  the  lost  son  of 
Jacob,  I  scarcely  need  to  say.  In  truth- 
fulness, in  conscientiousness,  in  strength 
and  depth  of  affection,  and  in  reverence 
for  God,  the  leading  elements  of  nobility 
of  character,  and  the  fruit  of  one  infinite 
and  ever-blessed  Spirit,  the  resemblance  is 


♦  The  words  "I  have  a  Father  in  Heaven,"  form  the 
simple  and  touching  inscription  upon  the  base  of  a  beau- 
tiful obelisk  marking  the  spot,  in  a  g-rove  of  forest- trees 
at  the  north  of  Springfield  House,  where  his  remains 
now  rest. 


SERMON.  53 

striking — so  striking  as  to  justify,  I  think, 
the  employment  of  the  known  facts  of 
Joseph's  history,  in  illustration  and  in 
proof  of  that  high  destiny  to  which,  we 
are  persuaded,  our  lost  one  has  attained. 

1.  It  is  a  well  known  fact  of  Joseph's 
history  that,  whilst  Jacob  was  mourning 
him  as  dead,  he  was  still  alive.  It  was, 
indeed,  most  true  that  Jacob  saw  not 
Joseph,  and  heard  no  more  the  music  of 
his  loved  son's  voice,  that  from  his  home 
its  light  and  joy  were  forever  passed  away, 
yet  Joseph  was  not  dead.  Nor  was  the 
life  of  Joseph  simply  prolonged.  In  that 
distant  land  to  which  the  Divine  Provi- 
dence conducted  him,  he  developed  the 
8 


54  SERMON. 

character  of  rare  nobility  which,  in  early 
life,  he  displayed,  and  reached  an  exalta- 
tion and  a  glory  which  he  could  never  have 
attained  in  his  father's  home.  Inferior  to 
Pharaoh  only  in  the  throne  of  Eg}'pt,  he 
swayed  an  imperial  sceptre,  and  was 
surrounded  by  a  truly  regal  splendor. 

Now,  who  can  fail  to  note  the  counter- 
part to  this  in  the  case  of  our  lost  one  ? 
We  speak  of  that  noble  boy  as  dead,  but 
who  of  us  knows  not  that  he  is  living.^ 
It  is,  indeed,  sad  truth  that  he  is  not — 
that  he  is  gone,  forever,  from  the  green 
fields  and  venerable  woods  of  his  earthly 
home — that  we  shall  see  no  more  his  hand- 
some form  and   expressive  face,  nor  hear 


SERMON.  55 

again  his  shout  and  call — but  it  is  not 
truth  that  he  is  dead.  As  the  sun  which, 
setting,  is  not  extinguished,  but  goes  to 
bless  some  other  lands,  so  he  is  gone  from 
us.  He  disappears  from  this  familiar  scene 
to  re-appear  upon  another,  higher,  nobler 
sphere.  He  withdraws  from  us  the  sweet, 
soft  light  of  his  lovely  character,  to  shed 
its  kindling  lustre  upon  a  brighter  world. 
He  is  not  dead.  It  were  most  grievous 
wrong  to  that  generous,  truthful,  loving 
spirit,  our  lost  one's  real  self,  to  think  of 
him  as  dead.     He  cannot  die. 

"Dust  thou  art  to  dust  returning 
Was  not  spoken  of  the  soul." 


56  SERMON. 

Nor  does  he  merely  live.  Doubtless, 
the  same  high  Providence,  which  con- 
ducted the  youthful  Joseph  through  trial 
and  disaster  to  a  throne,  upheld  and  led 
him  onward  through  all  the  gloom  of  the 
darkened  Valley.  And,  guided  by  that 
Eternal  Father  whom  he  reverenced  and 
sought,  whose  holy  name  was  latest  on  his 
lips,  who  questions  that  he  now  has  en- 
tered upon  the  glad  activities  of  Heaven? 
Yes,  at  a  single  bound  he  reaches  the 
grandest  destiny  of  man — destiny  unat- 
tainable in  time — destiny  to  which  in  true 
magnificence  and  glory,  the  royal  honors 
of  the  son  of  Jacob,  and  the  whole  of 
Earth's  imperial  dignities,  cannot  compare. 


SERMON,  57 

What  high  distinction,  what  rare  blessed- 
ness, what  satisfying  good,  what  ra^^turous 
bliss,  are  his  !  In  the  very  outset  of  his 
probationary  life  of  sense,  he  is  exempt 
from  all  the  contino-encies  which  overlie 
development  of  character ;  from  all  the 
pains  of  sickness ;  from  all  the  anxieties  of 
care ;  from  all  the  gusts  of  passion ;  and 
from  all  the  pangs  of  remorse.  His  early 
and  exquisite  promise  of  usefulness  and 
piety  becomes,  at  once,  a  fixed  and  a  glo- 
rious reality.  He  rises,  in  a  moment,  from 
the  scenes  and  companionships  of  an 
earthly  home,  from  the  embrace  of  parents 
and  the  kindnesses  of  friends,  from  all 
the   plenty  of  this  goodly  dwelling,  from 


58  SERMON. 

yon  fair  lawn  and  yonder  fertile  fields,  to 
the  loves,  the  friendships,  and  the  untold 
glories  of  the  house  not  made  with  hands, 
the  many-mansioned  house  of  his  ever- 
living  and  ever-loving  Father. 

"There  entertain  him  all  the  saints  above. 
In  solemn  troops  and  sweet  societies 

That  sing,  and  singing  in  their  glory  move 
And  wipe  the  tears  forever  from  his  eyes/' 

2.  It  is  another  well  known  fact  of  Jo- 
seph's history  that  the  loss  of  him  was 
made  to  Jacob  an  exceeding  gain.  In  that 
fearful  famine  which  forced  the  Patriarch 
to  seek  in  Egypt  subsistence  for  himself 


SERMON.  59 

and  household,  his  long  lost  son  became 
his  life.  It  thus  was  proven  that  that 
event  which  Jacob  mourned  so  greatly 
was  in  truth  a  signal  mercy ;  that  Joseph 
passed  away  was  more  to  the  mourning 
father  than  Joseph  could  have  been  abiding 
in  that  father's  presence ;  and  that  God 
who  had  already  honored  Joseph  by  a  rare 
advancement,  designed  him  the  still  higher 
honor  of  promoting  instrumentally  his 
father's   good. 

Now  is  there  nothing  in  the  case  of  our 
lost  one  analogous  to  this?  Is  he  whom 
we  lament  so  absolutely  lost  that,  to  these 
afflicted  parents,  he  may  fulfil  no  ministry 
of  love  ?     Does  God  design  the  loved  and 


60  SERMON. 

lovely  child  no  further  honor  than  that 
which  is  involved  in  personal  admission 
into  Heaven  ?  Surely  we  cannot  have  such 
thought.  The  voice  of  Scripture  and  of 
experience  are  equally  against  it.  That 
noble  boy  though  dead  yet  speaks,*  and, 
holding  to  these  bereaved  ones  the  pecu- 
liar and  the  unutterably  tender  relation  of  a 
child  in  Heaven,  he  becomes  to  them  the 
fitting  minister  of  God's  great  mercies. 

For,  how  great  the  mercy  that,  uplifted 
to  the  home  of  God,  their  angel-child 
relieves  them,  as  well  from  all  anxiety 
and   fear,    as    from    all    responsibility,    in 

*  Hebrews,  xi:  4. 


SERMON.  61 

respect  of  his  worthy  education  and  en- 
suing fortunes. 

The  continuance  of  his  life  on  Earth 
would  certainly  have  furnished  them  most 
numerous  occasions  of  solicitude.  The 
development  of  his  physical  and  mental 
powers,  the  direction  of  his  tastes,  the 
formation  of  his  habits,  the  determination 
of  his  character,  in  short,  his  associations, 
his  aims,  his  plans  and  his  pursuits,  would 
all  have  claimed,  unceasingly,  parental 
watchfulness  and  care.  Nor  with  their 
most  assiduous  endeavors  would  they  ever 
have  been  able  to  secure  him  from  the 
sicknesses  and  sorrows  of  our  mortal  state, 

or  to  protect  him  from  the  trials  and  the 
9 


62  SERMON. 

perils  of  this  probationary  scene,  or  to 
make  it  certain  that  he  would  so  bear 
these  ills  and  so  pass  this  probation,  as  to 
give  an  increasing  brightness  to  his  early 
promise  and  a  growing  satisfaction  to  their 
hearts.  Thus,  the  anxiety  which  they  on 
his  account  must  of  necessity  have  felt, 
Avould  have  mingled  also  with  a  natural 
fear  that  in  strength  of  body,  or  in  force  of 
intellect,  or  in  rectitude  of  act,  he  might 
fail  to  realize  their  high  anticipations. 
And  this  natural  fear,  so  fraught  with 
dread  disquietude,  would  plainly  have 
been  heightened  by  the  manifest,  yet 
most  solemn  truth,  that  upon  them  would 
lie  the  chief  responsibility  of  determining 


SERMON.  63 

his  history,  his  character  and  his  destiny. 
Such  responsibility  attaches  by  the  ordi- 
nance of  God  to  the  parental  office,  and 
of  itself  is  quite  enough  to  fill  the 
conscientious  mind  with  liveliest  appre- 
hensions. 

What  would  have  been  the  character 
and  conduct  of  that  dear  boy  had  he  at- 
tained to  manhood,  it  is  now  impossible  to 
say.  We  have  much  to  justify  the  thought 
that  he  would  have  proven  all  his  parents 
could  desire,  yet  might  the  fact  far  other- 
wise have  been.  A  failure  to  mature  the 
principles  of  wisdom  and  of  virtue  is  not 
uncommon.  What  multitudes  of  youth 
convert  the   beauty  of  their  opening  life 


64  SERMON. 

into  a  foul  deformity,  sinking  their  own 
fair  prospects  into  night,  and  all  the  love 
and  hope  of  parents  into  anguish  and  des- 
pair. And,  indeed,  when  we  consider  the 
manifold  contingencies  which  press  upon 
our  being  in  a  world  of  sense  and  sin,  this 
common  failure  does  not  seem  surprising. 
Our  probationary  life  is  a  conflict  with  ad- 
versaries as  many  as  they  are  mighty ;  a 
voyage  upon  a  sea  where  hidden  rocks, 
and  counter  currents,  and  warring  winds 
abound  ;  a  journey  along  a  way  filled  with 
innumerable  snares,  and  often  pressed  by 
deepest  shades  of  night.  Instead  of  won- 
der, therefore,  that  so  many  absolutely  fail 
to  form  and  to  display  right  character,  the 


SERMON.  65 

marvel  rather  is  that  any  of  our  race  es- 
cape such  failure,  and  none,  in  fact,  do  so 
escape  without  the  guiding  and  the  guard- 
ing grace  of  God. 

Now  is  it  not  a  mercy  that  from  such 
disquieting  anxieties  and  fears,  from  such 
vast  pressure  of  responsibility,  God  has 
freed  these  parents  by  uplifting  to  Himself 
their  child  and  His  ?  What  mercy  could 
be  greater?  In  their  acknowledged  want 
of  an  ability  so  to  govern  and  instruct  their 
boy,  as  to  ensure  his  true  and  noble  des- 
tiny, the  God  of  infinite  resources  under- 
takes the  mighty  work.  In  their  antici- 
pations for  him  of  the  hazards  of  a  change- 
ful  world,  its   pains,  its    weaknesses,   its 


66  S  E  11  M  0  N . 

days  of  gloom,  its  nights  of  grief,  the 
God  of  all  comiDassion  removes  their  loved 
one  to  a  world  where  such  disastrous 
changes  never  come.  Yea  more.  In 
their  just  dread  of  his  exposure  to  the 
delusions  of  error,  to  the  blandishments  of 
sense,  to  the  fascinations  of  vice,  and  to 
the  ensnarements  of  temptation,  the  God 
of  an  exhaustless  grace  upbears  the  object 
of  their  solicitude  far  away  from  an  evil 
world,  and,  correcting  the  unholy  tenden- 
cies of  fallen  human  nature,  places  him 
amid  such  scenes  and  in  such  companion- 
ships, that  his  virtue  cannot  but  be  stain- 
less and  eternal — in  that  pure  world  where 
"the  ransomed  of   the   Lord  obtain   joy 


SERMON.  67 

and    gladness,    and    sorrow    and    sighing 
flee  away."* 

"  He  is  not  dead — the  child  of  their  affection — 

But  gone  unto  that  school 
Where  he  no  longer  needs  their  poor  protection. 

And  Christ  himself  doth  rule. 

"In  that  great  cloister's  stillness  and  seclusion. 

By  guardian  angels  led. 
Safe  from  temptation,  safe  from  sin's  pollution. 

He  lives  whom  we  call  dead." 

Oh  surely  this  is  mercy  which  no  tongue 
may  utter  and   no   mind  conceive.      God 

*  Idaiah,  xxxv  :  10. 


68  SERMON. 

grants  these  parents  every  prayer,  which 
for  their  son  they  could  have  framed;  and 
if,  indeed,  the  answer  come  in  form  far 
differing  from  what  their  anguished  hearts 
would  now  dictate,  yet  is  it  mercy  infinite 
that  God,  so  early,  makes  their  boy  a 
holy,  happy,  honored  heir  of  life  and 
glory. 

But  great  as  is  the  mercy  thus  vouch- 
safed, it  is  no  less  a  mercy  that  their  angel- 
child  instructs  them  now  in  many  of  the 
grandest  lessons  of  our  faith. 

How  impressively  he  teaches  them  the 
unsubstantial  nature  of  all  earthly  good. 
He  points  them  to  the  bed  on  which  they 
saw  him  die,  to  the  coffin  and  the  grave  in 


SERMON.  69 

which  they  laid  him,  and  he  says  with  an 
Apostle,  ''All  flesh  is  as  grass,  and  all  the 
glory  of  man  as  the  flower  of  grass.  The 
grass  withereth,  and  the  flower  thereof 
falleth  away."* 

Nor  less  impressive  is  his  teaching  that, 
beyond  this  life  of  sense,  there  is  an  un- 
ending life  of  spirit.  He  calls  them  to 
look  upward  to  the  Heavens,  wdiere  he  has 
found  a  w^orld  unlike  to  that  of  Earth — 
a  w^orld  most  real,  for  in  it  is  his  home — 
a  world  most  near,  for  into  it  he  passed 
but  yesterday — a  world  most  blessed,  for 
"God    shall   wipe    aw^ay   all    tears    from 


'  1   Peter,  i;  24. 

10 


70  SERMON. 

their  eyes;  and  there  shall  be  no  more 
death,  neither  sorrow,  nor  crying,  neither 
shall  there  be  any  more  pain."*  Thus, 
opening  to  their  faith  and  their  affec- 
tions an  unseen  world  of  spirit,  he  says 
again  with  an  Apostle,  <^The  world 
passeth  away,  and  the  lust  thereof:  but 
he  that  doeth  the  will  of  God  abideth 
lorcver."t 

Still  more  impressive,  if  it  be  possible, 
is  his  teaching  that,  for  this  future,  unseen, 
ever-during  world,  a  preparation  is  needed. 
In  the  pain  of  his  mortal  sickness  and  in 
the  urgency  of  his  pra}  ers  for  pardon  and 

♦  Revelation,  xxi:  4.  f  I  John,  ii :  17. 


SERMON.  71 

acceptance,  how  strikingly  he  shows  tlie 
terrific,  native  heinousness  of  sin.  The 
poison  of  inherited  depravity  must  truly  be 
most  virulent  when  one,  so  young  and  so 
engaging,  with  few  if  any  actual  trans- 
gressions, and  with  none  of  gross  enormity, 
is  yet  constrained,  not  only  to  yield  up  his 
life  in  forfeit  to  a  violated  law,  but  also  to 
entreat,  with  importunity,  the  mercy  of  his 
heavenly  Father.  Oh  if,  before  that  lovely 
spirit  could  ascend  to  a  holy  Heaven,  it 
were  needful  that  its  native  stains  of  sin 
be  washed  away,  w^hat  cleansing,  what 
washing  of  regeneration,  will  they  not  need 
who,  to  an  original  corruption,  have  added 
countless    acts   of   sin,    and    innumerable 


72  SERMON. 

refusals  to  accept  the  offered  grace  of 
God  in  Christ !  Yes,  for  a  coming  world, 
there  is  a  preparation  needed.  It  is  this 
lesson  which  the  sainted  boy  pre-eminently 
teaches,  saying,  in  the  words  of  Him  who 
spake  as  never  man  spake,  "Except  a 
man  be  born  of  waiter,  and  of  the  Spirit, 
he  cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
God."* 

Now,  let  it  be  observed  that  these  grand 
lessons,  not  to  speak  of  others  as  clearly 
taught,  are  connected  intimately  with  all 
the  higher  life  of  the  soul.  The  fleeting 
world  of  sense,  and  the  enduring  world  of 

*  John,  iii:  5. 


SERMON.  73 

spirit,  must  be  properly  perceived  and 
duly  weighed,  before  we  ever  set,  as 
Scripture  counsels,  our  '^affection  on  things 
above."*  Nor  is  it  less  apparent  that  he, 
who  seeks  to  realize  the  good  of  the  com- 
ing world  of  spirit,  must  practically  own 
the  need  of  preparation  for  it,  assenting 
to  the  doctrine  of  Sin  and  of  the  Saviour 
with  such  honest  earnestness,  that  Repent- 
ance for  the  one,  and  Faith  upon  the  other, 
shall  but  reveal  the  hidden  workings  of  the 
life  of  God. 

It  thus  becomes  an  obvious  truth  that, 
to   receive   instruction   in   such    holy  and 

*  Colossi ans,  iii :  2. 


74  SERMON. 

such  vital  lessons,  although  by  means  of 
an  event  as  sad  as  that  which  here  is 
mourned,  is  yet  a  signal  and  most  precious 
mercy.  If  such  lessons  be  not  learned, 
the  interests  of  the  soul  are  lost  forever. 
And  who  can  fail  to  note  the  singular  adap- 
tedness  of  that  bereavement,  which  these 
parents  have  sustained,  to  give  enforce- 
ment to  the  lessons  which  it  teaches?  The 
departure  of  their  boy  from  time  severs  at 
a  blow  their  strongest  tie  to  Earth.  The 
entrance  of  their  loved  one  into  Heaven 
turns  their  thoughts  and  their  affections 
thither,  and  from  that  holy  home  his  pure 
and  gentle  spirit  even  now  sends  back  to 
them  the  tender  admonition,  ^^Be  ye  also 


SERMON.  75 

ready."*  There,  to  that  world  of  light,  and 
love,  and  joy,  he  beckons  them.  There 
he  awaits  their  coming.  There  stands  he 
ready  to  receive  and  welcome  them. 

Nor  is  it  a  slight  influence  which  his 
memory  must  have  in  softening,  in  subdu- 
ing, in  spiritualizing  all  their  thoughts. 
In  going  up  to  God  he  leaves  behind  a 
thousand  recollections,  which  will  bear 
with  blessed  power  upon  their  hearts.  He 
will  be  with  them  as  an  angel-presence, 
in  all  their  journey  to  the  grave.  He  will 
sit  beside  them  at  the  hearth-stone  and  in 
the  silent  chamber.     He  will  attend  them 

*  Matthew,  xsiv:  44. 


76  SERMON. 

in  the  lonely,  and  in  the  crowded  pathway. 
He  will  meet  them  in  the  closet  and  in  the 
house  of  prayer.  He  will  speak  to  them 
in  each  glad  voice  of  Spring,  and  in  each 
soft  whisper  of  the  Summer  wind.  His 
well-remembered  tone  will  mingle  with  the 
sound  of  the  falling  leaf,  and  with  the  roar 
of  the  rushing  storm.  Yes,  he  will  live 
with  them,  and  w^ith  them  will  converse. 
Go  where  they  may,  do  what  they  may,  he 
will  be  with  them  to  instruct,  to  chasten, 
and  to  guide  their  minds. 

Thus  teaching,  thus  enforcing,  thus 
opening  the  heart  to  heed  the  lessons  of 
eternal  Love,  this  death  may  be  to  these 
afflicted  parents,  an  essential  means  of  life. 


SERMON.  77 

Without  it,  might  they  not  have  cherished 
such  idolatrous  attachment  to  their  gifted 
boy  as  to  emperil  fearfully  the  interests  of 
their  souls  ?  Without  it,  might  they  not  in 
plans  and  labors  for  his  prosperous  fortunes 
in  the  world,  have  so  forgotten  God,  and 
Truth,  and  Heaven,  as  to  sink  themselves 
into  the  night  of  an  eternal  death?  But 
however  this  may  be,  we  have  assurance 
that  the  Lord  w^ho  orders  it,  "is  wonderful 
in  counsel,  and  excellent  in  working."* 
This  death,  for  aught  that  we  may  say,  is 
God's  selected  means  of  bringing  these 
parental  hearts,  so  torn,   so   troubled,  to 


*  Isaiahj  xxviii :  29. 
11 


78  SERMON. 

seek  his  love  and  to  rely  upon  his  grace 
and  guidance.  It  is  no  unmeaning  Scrip- 
ture which  declares,  "Whom  the  Lord 
lovcth  he  chasteneth."*  It  is  God  him- 
self who  says,  "I  kill,  and  I  make  alive; 
I  wound  and  I  hcal."t  Oh  if  from  this 
sore  trial,  through  which  now  they  pass, 
an  issue  be  designed  so  gracious  and  so 
glorious,  as  that  of  their  eternal  life,  then 
will  this  trial  prove  to  be  the  crowning 
act  of  God's  great  mercies. 

**Amid  their  list  of  blessings  infinite 

This  shall  stand  foremost  that  their  hearts  have  hledy 

*  Hebrews,  xii;  6.  f  Deut.  xxxii:  3!). 


SERMON.  '79' 

3.  There  is  yet  another  well-known  fact 
of  Joseph's   history  to   which,  in   closing 
this  discourse,  I  cannot  but  advert.     The 
mourning  Jacob  and  the  long-lost  Joseph 
had,  at  length,  the  privilege  and  joy  of  a 
re-union.    A  series  of  events  as  remarkable 
as  those  which,   at  the  first,  led  Joseph 
into  Egypt,  thither,  also  conducted  Jacob. 
The  venerable  Patriarch  beholds  again  that 
Joseph   who  was   not   and   yet  who  was. 
Again,  he  hears  the  lips  long  sealed,  as  he 
had  thought,  in  death,  pronounce  his  name, 
and  feels  the  pressure  of  an  embrace  unfelt 
for  three-score  years. 

How  must  the  joy  of  this  re-union  have 
made  amends  for  all  the  pains  of  separa- 


80  SERMON. 

lion,  andj  on  each  review  of  the  eventful 
past,  have  filled  the  pious  minds  of  father 
and  of  son,  with  admiration  of  the  wisdom 
and  the  grace  of  God.  The  providence, 
so  lately  dark  and  dread,  is  radiant  now 
with  light  and  love. 

Shall,  then,  these  parents  come  to  like 
re-union  with  their  son  ?  Shall  they  behold 
his  angel-form,  and  the  surpassing  glories 
of  his  bright  abode  ?  Shall  they,  by  him, 
be  introduced  to  bands  of  shining  ones, 
and  to  the  King  upon  His  throne.  Oh, 
shall  it  be  their  blest  employment  to  re- 
count, with  him,  the  wondrous  steps  which 
led  them  safely  to  the  skies  ?  To  such 
high   questionings,  it   plainly  is   not   mine 


SERMON.  81 

to  give  a  positive  response,  but  sure  I  am 
that,  if  these  parents  heed  the  lessons  of 
their  dear  child's  death,  "loving  not  the 
world,  neither  the  things  that  are  in  the 
world,"*  but  "seeking  first  the  kingdom 
of  God,  and  his  righteousness,"!  a  re-union 
with  their  sainted  boy  is  as  unquestionably 
certain,  as  is  their,  or  his,  or  God's  exist- 
ence.     Death   may  separate,   but   it   can 
never   disunite    those   loving   ones  whose 
hearts   are  bound  together  by  a  common 
faith  in  Jesus.     Let,  then,  desire  of  this 
re-union,    and    assurance    of    its    blissful 
certainty,  be   all   constraining   motives   to 

*  I  John,  ii:  lo.  t  Mattliew,  vi:  33. 


82  S  E  R  M  0  N. 

repentance  and  to  faith,  to  cordial  trust  in 
God  and  in  His  Christ.  And  may  '^the 
grace  of  God  that  bringeth  salvation 
appear  to  them,  teaching  them,  that, 
denying  ungodliness  and  worldly  lusts, 
they  should  live  soberly,  righteously,  and 
godly,  in  this  present  world;  looking  for 
that  blessed  hope,  and  the  glorious  ap- 
pearing of  the  great  God,  and  our  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ."*  To  Him  be  glory  both 
now  and  forever.     Amen. 

♦Titug,  ii:  11—13. 


PRAYER   AT  THE   GRAVE. 


O  God,  we  lay  this  body  in  the  grave 
that,  as  Thou  ordainest,  the  dust  may  re- 
turn to  the  Earth  as  it  was.  Let  thine  eye 
of  love  be  on  it ;  let  thy  hand  of  power 
keep  it ;  and,  when  Thou  callest  it  to  rise 
from  its  corruption  to  an  inheritance  of 
incorruption,  O  unite  it  to  that  loving,  and, 
as  we  believe,  now  holy  mind,  which 
lately  dwelt  within  it. 

And  we  beseech  Thee,  0  Thou  Father  of 
all  mercies,  to  impress  deeply  us  who  now 


84  PRAYER. 

surround  this  opened  grave,  with  fitting 
thoughts  of  our  mortality  and  immortality. 
Lead  us,  at  once,  to  make  the  needed 
preparation  for  the  hour  of  death  and  for 
the  day  of  judgment,  and  so  sanctify  to 
us  Thy  wise  and  gracious  providences 
that,  as  we  grow  in  years,  we  may  also 
grow  in  fitness  for  an  eternal  dwelling  in 
the  city  which  hath  foundations,  whose 
builder  and  maker  is  God.  Grant  these 
our  prayers  for  Christ's  sake.     Amen. 


BENEDICTION 


Now  the  God  of  peace  that  brought 
again  from  the  dead  our  Lord  Jesus,  that 
great  Shepherd  of  the  sheep,  through  the 
blood  of  the  everlasting  covenant,  make 
you  perfect  in  every  good  work  to  do  His 
will,  working  in  you  that  which  is  well 
pleasing  in  His  sight,  through  Jesus  Christ : 
to  whom  be  glory  for  ever  and  ever.    Amen. 


12 


Ill  iiHinii 


1    1012  01044  0891 


■^sSiPf^X 


-m    c- 


